The Talking-Out of Tarrington

by H.H. Munro (SAKI)

　　"Heavens!" exclaimed the aunt of Clovis, "here's some one I knowbearing down on us. I can't remember his name, but he lunchedwith us once in Town. Tarrington--yes, that's it. He's heard ofthe picnic I'm giving for the Princess, and he'll cling to me likea lifebelt till I give him an invitation; then he'll ask if he maybring all his wives and mothers and sisters with him. That's theworst of these small watering-places; one can't escape fromanybody.""I'll fight a rearguard action for you if you like to do a boltnow," volunteered Clovis; "you've a clear ten yards start if youdon't lose time."The aunt of Clovis responded gamely to the suggestion, and churnedaway like a Nile steamer, with a long brown ripple of Pekingesespaniel trailing in her wake."Pretend you don't know him," was her parting advice, tinged withthe reckless courage of the non-combatant.The next moment the overtures of an affably disposed gentlemanwere being received by Clovis with a "silent-upon-a-peak-in-Darien" stare which denoted an absence of all previousacquaintance with the object scrutinized."I expect you don't know me with my moustache," said the new-comer; "I've only grown it during the last two months.""On the contrary," said Clovis, "the moustache is the only thingabout you that seemed familiar to me. I felt certain that I hadmet it somewhere before.""My name is Tarrington," resumed the candidate for recognition."A very useful kind of name," said Clovis; "with a name of thatsort no one would blame you if you did nothing in particularheroic or remarkable, would they? And yet if you were to raise atroop of light horse in a moment of national emergency,'Tarrington's Light Horse' would sound quite appropriate andpulse-quickening; whereas if you were called Spoopin, forinstance, the thing would be out of the question. No one, even ina moment of national emergency, could possibly belong to Spoopin'sHorse."The new-comer smiled weakly, as one who is not to be put off bymere flippancy, and began again with patient persistence:"I think you ought to remember my name--""I shall," said Clovis, with an air of immense sincerity. "Myaunt was asking me only this morning to suggest names for fouryoung owls she's just had sent her as pets. I shall call them allTarrington; then if one or two of them die or fly away, or leaveus in any of the ways that pet owls are prone to, there will bealways one or two left to carry on your name. And my aunt won'tLET me forget it; she will always be asking 'Have the Tarringtonshad their mice?' and questions of that sort. She says if you keepwild creatures in captivity you ought to see after their wants,and of course she's quite right there.""I met you at luncheon at your aunt's house once--" broke in Mr.Tarrington, pale but still resolute."My aunt never lunches," said Clovis; "she belongs to the NationalAnti-Luncheon League, which is doing quite a lot of good work in aquiet, unobtrusive way. A subscription of half a crown perquarter entitles you to go without ninety-two luncheons.""This must be something new," exclaimed Tarrington."It's the same aunt that I've always had," said Clovis coldly."I perfectly well remember meeting you at a luncheon-party givenby your aunt," persisted Tarrington, who was beginning to flush anunhealthy shade of mottled pink."What was there for lunch?" asked Clovis."Oh, well, I don't remember that--""How nice of you to remember my aunt when you can no longer recallthe names of the things you ate. Now my memory works quitedifferently. I can remember a menu long after I've forgotten thehostess that accompanied it. When I was seven years old Irecollect being given a peach at a garden-party by some Duchess orother; I can't remember a thing about her, except that I imagineour acquaintance must have been of the slightest, as she called mea 'nice little boy,' but I have unfading memories of that peach.It was one of those exuberant peaches that meet you halfway, so tospeak, and are all over you in a moment. It was a beautifulunspoiled product of a hothouse, and yet it managed quitesuccessfully to give itself the airs of a compote. You had tobite it and imbibe it at the same time. To me there has alwaysbeen something charming and mystic in the thought of that delicatevelvet globe of fruit, slowly ripening and warming to perfectionthrough the long summer days and perfumed nights, and then comingsuddenly athwart my life in the supreme moment of its existence.I can never forget it, even if I wished to. And when I haddevoured all that was edible of it, there still remained thestone, which a heedless, thoughtless child would doubtless havethrown away; I put it down the neck of a young friend who waswearing a very DCOLLET sailor suit. I told him it was ascorpion, and from the way he wriggled and screamed he evidentlybelieved it, though where the silly kid imagined I could procure alive scorpion at a garden-party I don't know. Altogether, thatpeach is for me an unfading and happy memory--"The defeated Tarrington had by this time retreated out of ear-shot, comforting himself as best he might with the reflection thata picnic which included the presence of Clovis might prove adoubtfully agreeable experience."I shall certainly go in for a Parliamentary career," said Clovisto himself as he turned complacently to rejoin his aunt. "As atalker-out of inconvenient bills I should be invaluable."